


Queens Side Story

by Astoria Gracewell (arh581958)



Series: #MalecWeek [11]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Bullying, Day 5 - non-supernatural!AU, Fag-bashing, High School, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Magnus Backstory, Magnus POV, Magnus-centric, Malec Week, Malec Week 2017, NYC Pride Parade, Non-Supernatural, Pride, Pride Parade, pride march
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Astoria%20Gracewell
Summary: Magnus Bane always knew he was born different from the others, and not simply due to the color of his skin. It's sadly unsurprising that many people don't accept him. Lucky for him, there's a blue-eyed stranger ready to defend his honor.





	Queens Side Story

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a late entry for Malec Week. Day 5 - Non-supernatural!AU  
> Also, posting this in celebration of Pride Day~ 
> 
> Warnings: See tags. More in end notes.
> 
> EDIT: Edited to reflect bi-Magnus. Honestly, he's 16 and figuring things out. Not all sixteen years old are as well-read and awesome as you to have a name for everything that they are. I know that I didn't.

Being gay—or in his case bi, or whichever he doesn’t really know yet—in New York wasn’t hard _per se_. Who had to define themselves with all these labels anyway? Needless to say, growing up as anything other than straight in Queens though might be a wholly be another matter.

Magnus Bane always knew he was born different from the others, and not simply due to the color of his skin. They lived in the Bronx. His ethnicity may be the most prominent difference, his religious values another, but it seemed that the only his _preference_ mattered. See here, Magnus knew for as long as he could remember that he didn’t like girl—not in the way he should, no, and definitely not as much as he liked boys. He would appreciate a girl every so often but he liked-liked boys as plain and simple as that.

However, the world wasn’t black and white.

“I’m gay,” he said to his father at ten years old because at ten that’s the only word he knew. It wasn’t as if his slightly less than average middle income family was so _cultured_ to explain it to him.

He hadn’t known what to expect. Certainly, he never even imagined that his father would drag him up to the rainwater container on the roof and dunk his head until he nearly drowned. The whole time, the old window washer screamed that he won’t have a son as a ‘faggot’. It was Magnus’ first time hearing the word.

That’s when, less than a week later—he doesn’t know, he can’t really remember—his mother had packed their bags and brought them to Brooklyn to live with her close friend. It wasn’t until later—much, much later—that _close friend_ turned out to be another word for lover. That’s when he came to understand himself a little bit more.

Maybe not a hundred percent gay but bi. He didn’t really have it all figured out yet.

Things from there were marginally better. His father had been the breadwinner of their little family. His mother, Henrietta, possessed minimal skills, mostly those needed to maintain a house. They struggled for money. Henrietta tried to do several odd jobs here and there. Only when she discovered her talent for sewing that they finally had enough money to start saving. She and her lover, Carmen, raised Magnus as their own.

Happier times followed. Life was finally looking up again for young Magnus. It still wasn’t always easy though. High school was a horrible, horrendous place to be gay. So much testosterone and hormones. So much fake confidence and _fear_. By then, Magnus could pick out the homophobes who were closet-queers. He wanted to bait them—to out them—the memory of being dunked in stale rainwater remained burned in his memory.

He promised his mother that he would never be like the vile man who sired him.

That was six years ago.

“Hello? Earth to Magnus. Earth to Magnus. Can anyone hear me? Come in. Over.” Catarina waved her dark brown hand over his face. “Hello~,” she sing-songed, “ARE. YOU. IN. THERE? Magnus, come on, is your head up in outer space again? We’ve got a test in Chemistry later! We need to study or _we’ll fail_. Fail! We can’t fail or else we can’t go to college! We’ll. Be bums for the rest of our lives. No—just no, I’m not settling for anything less than a medicine degree!”

Magnus snapped out of his trace, vaguely remember where they were—a trio of sophomores sitting in their self-claimed spot in the cafeteria. Catarina, Ragnor, and he all took lunch together despite being in different classed. Their friendship started all the way back from elementary, but that story was for another time.

“Heavens, Cat,” Ragnor sighed, flicking through his chemistry book with a carrot stick. “Exams aren’t until _next_ year. We’ve got a whole year of study for entrance exams! What ever you cram into that brain of yours, there’s no guarantee that you’ll retain it until the tests. You’re just wasting your time and effort. You need to chill and live a little.”

“Har, har,” Catarina snorted, “not everyone’s got daddy’s little trust fund behind them, Ragnor. Magnus, me out here! He’s being unreasonable!”

Magnus looked at his two best friends with a chuckle. “You both should just start dating and get over the sexual tension already. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t even notice being the third wheel! Heavens know that you’re both just waiting to bone each other. Don’t go trying to me Hermione-and-Ron-ing until we graduate, _please_. Everyone knows had like what five kids in the epilogue?”

The carrot plops on Ragnor’s text book, staining it with orange, but Catarina beats him to the punch.

“Excuse you, Mr. Muggle, sir, you can’t—just can’t geek-reference our love story,” she said grabbing Ragnor’s arm over the table and making kissy faces. “Ragnor, my love, we’ve been caught! It’s a scandal! Father would have out heads. We much show him that our love is stronger than our last names!”

“What in heavens name are you spewing now, Cat? “   pulls away in horror. “Magnus, man, you’ve unleashed a demon! We need to exorcise it!”

Magnus buries his face in his hands because his friends are heathens, fingers newly painted in dark blue metallic polish. “Why, oh why,” he bemoans, “Remind me again why we are friends? I can’t seem to remember. Devil-spawns, both of you.”

Both Catarina and Ragnor burst out laughing.

“Because, my dear fellow, we’re the only two people willing to rattle the world for your sorry ass,” said Ragnor.

Catarina in her most sincere voice added, “Because we love you like our brother.”

“Cat’s right.” Ragnor nodded, eyes suddenly turning mischievous. He may be the bastard son of a rich congress man but he’s no stranger to trouble. Many times, trouble seduced him. “You don’t go wailing on Cat’s undying love for a hunk like me just because you’re lonely. We need to set you up! Get you a date!” His whole face shone with figurative sunrays behind him. “That’s the master plan!”

“Master plan.” The tasted bitter in Magnus’ tongue. “Get the Asian Gay Boy a Boyfriend, and it’s not gay; it’s bi. I think that’s different. That’s your master plan, Ragnor? Contrary to popular belief; love doesn’t solve everything, and not every gay boy just wants to get laid.”

“That’s why I said _date_ , Maggy, a date!” Ragnor defended.

Of course, these were his friends.

That was how Magnus found himself dressed in his gaudiest _date me_ outfit. He shall never admit going overboard from nervousness—eye painted in purple and gold, pink highlights in his hair, and light blue metallic nail polish.

Ragnor and (somewhat reluctantly) Catarina’s idea of finding their very male friend, who just happened to like equally gay men, a boyfriend was at the local pride march parade. A girlfriend wouldn’t be bad too. They place into account Magnus’ slightly higher inclination to the male form rather than to the female form. Because, come on, finding a safe place to get a boyfriend in these parts is not easy.

Pride was the only semi-safe place the two teen could come up with to find other out and proud boys. No way would they settle for just anyone for their Magnus. Finding him a boyfriend (or girlfriend) bproved almost too difficult. But even then, just being a gay man was reason enough to date Magnus. They wanted more, and so to Manhattan they sought grander pickings.

Foley Square at 111 Worth Street was the venue for their search. Rainbows decorated everything—from poles, to street lamps, to every window available. Men and women dressed in all sorts of colorful clothes, and all of it fascinated Magnus. He loved seeing every single one joining in the rally.

“Are we really going to walk with them?” Catarina asked, looking a bit distressed.

Magnus took his friends by the arms, pulling them out of the sidelines. His sheer comfortableness in occasion showed just how much he had changed over the years. “Why, of course, we are! We walked all this way! You _made_ me wear my _best_ sparkling vest! Come on now, my dears. We shall paint this town in nothing but glitter and rainbows! My two favorite things in the world!” He laughed as they got were swallowed up in the crowd.

The joyous trio tumbled onto the sidewalk—covered in glitter—away from the crowd. They laughed their merry heads off with sips of the fairy drinks. Catarina’s long black hair had large pieces of confetti stuck, Ragnor’s shirt would be beyond saving from paint, and Magnus’ face was covered with sparkles. All of them were sweating a good amount without care. It was a glorious day to be gay, and Magnus never felt more accepted.

“Hey, hey!” Ragnor drunkenly roared, voice booming boisterously. Only the louder buzz of the parade goers saved him from being rude. He had to shout or else risk not being heard. “We still haven’t found you that boyfriend!”

“Oh heavens, Ragnor, would you let it go? Magnus can find his own true love.” Catarina, who plopped against the sidewalk, extended her leg in attempt to trip him. It worked. Ragnor’s ankle caught her shin, and he fell face first to the concrete. The cup in hand spilled everywhere.

“Ugh,” he groaned.

Catarina giggled. “Look, Magnus, I trapped him!” Yes, she was definitely smashed.

“Aww, come on!” Magnus groaned, half-embarrassed. He flopped down beside her in the midst of laughing. “It’s a _date_ , just a date. No one’s talking about true love, marriage, or happily ever after yet. Just a date—coffee,  maybe a movie—will do. But no one’s given me a second look! I mean look at them!” He pointed to the school of half-naked bodies dancing to Lady Gaga’s _Born This Way_ anthem. “They’re gorgeous!”

“Maggy, baby, you’re not ugly,” Ragnor said, looking for the world too content to keep lying down on the dirty floor.

Catarina’s giggling intensified. “I’m sure someone out there is going to love you for who you are.” At Magnus’ half-open mouth, she quickly added. “But  they’ll have to date you first!“

“Who’s going on a date?” Another voice came in behind them. It was dark and sneering, telling them exactly what the platinum blond boy thought about the idea. Benedict Lightwood was a classic pretty boy douchebag from school, typical. “Someone going on a date with you, fag?” He snarled, grabbing Magnus’ paper cup then throwing it aside. “Who’d you vodoo this time?”

In an instant, Magnus’ face hardened into a cold exterior. “Aww, don’t be such a _dick_ , Bene-dick. I know it’s beyond your peanut-sized brain—oops, my mistake, I meant to say your—,” he covers his face in mock shyness and points to the front of Benedict’s pants, “ahem, _thing_. But, anyway, it’s beyond _your_ comprehension that every gay man just wants the D in the B. And, yours definitely is an negative A cup.”

“What did you say? You—you!” Benedict grew red, and it wasn’t a blush. “I should bash your head-in, you spreading around all that—that—”

“What?” Magnus snapped back. “I’m sitting here minding my own business,” he motions to sidewalk, “having afternoon tea with my two besties,” he waves to the pair across him, “talking about boys which I have yet to—what was it you like to say? Ahh, yes, _taint_ with my gay. That makes _me_ such the bad guy in this situation. You should call the fag-police. Oh, wait, the whole battalion of one is already here! Goodie!”

“I can take you down anytime!” Benedict defended, hands balling into fists. “Any times, Bane. You sorry brown ass will get the kicking it deserves. You should’ve been born—not in _my_ country.”

Magnus stood up abruptly, patting himself on thw back when he didn’t wobble. The only good his absent father ever gave him was his stature. He used every centimeter to face-off against Benedict, staring into the older boy’s dark eyes. “My _mother_ taught me not to raise my fists against petty things. Be grateful that I don’t consider you worth my time. You should just leave.”

Benedict, on the other hand, had other ideas. Instead of leaving, he hauled Magnus by the back of his collar and drove him into the ground with punches. “You shouldn’t spread your faggy-ass! Think you own America? Dancing around like it’s a gay bar in the middle of the afternoon! You should all go back to where you came from!”

“Magnus!” Both of his friends cried out.

“Benedict, stop it!” Catarina shouted. Ragnor tried to pull the older boy away, but his slightly drunken state caused him to easily be knocked over. Catarina was on him in a second. “Ragnor, you colt! You barely passed Gym! You should really know just when to call for help.”

“You mean like now?” He wheezed.

She nodded. “Yup!”

“HELP!” They both shouted.

Magnus had gotten defensive training years prior. Never too prepared in case his worthless father ever found them. He blocked Benedicts hits with his forearms, grunting. The boy trapped him with knees on either side of his torso. At the corner of his eye, he saw Ragnor clutching a bruised rib against sidewalk with Catarina beside him. He _should_ be able to get loose but the flashbacks came back.

Every hit was a dunk underwater.

Every word, he heard his father’s voice.

Every second he kept going back to being a helpless ten-year-old.

Magnus couldn’t hate himself more at that moment. He was so much stronger than this. At the back of his mind, he knew that Benedict could’ve have overpowered him by much. They were equals in stature and in strength. All the training that he underwent as a child was lost in the sea of his father’s memories. He felt like a failure that he was born to be—a nobody.

“Ben, stop it!” A new voice yelled. “Come on, Ben, please! Stop it!”

“Stay out of this brat!”

Magnus tried to open his eyes, and saw a blurry pale figure wearing something dark.

“Benedict, _please_!”

“Alec! I told you to stay out of it!” Benedict growled, shoving off the smaller boy.

Alec, so it seemed, would have nothing of it. “No, Ben, no! Stop it! Don’t hurt him! He hasn’t done anything wrong! Stop beating him up!” He yelled even louder, gathering a crowd around them. He would not cease nor relent. He kept pulling at the older boy’s torso despite having nearly zero results. “Get. Off. Him!”

At the moment Alec tugged, Magnus surged up and pushed Benedict off. The pair of boys tumbled down. A crowd of onlookers had gathered by then.

“Alec, you brat!” Benedict shouted at the young boy. “I told you to stay out of it.”

“I told you to stop beating him up!” Alec, a short, skinny boy, fought back. “You’re a bully.”

“And what? You’ll squeal to mom and dad?” Benedict grabbed Alec by the shirt and hauled him up. “I’d like to see you try pipsqueak!” He raised his hand, ready to strike.

Magnus caught it just in time. “Don’t you dare,” he warned, using the raw power his felt from within him to twist Benedict’s wrist.

Benedict let our out a pained growth. He dropped Alec to the ground.

Magnus pulled him away. “You should go.” He said, leaving no room for arguments. Behind him, members and supporters of the LGBT community stood behind him, watching the scene unfold. “It’s over, Benny boy. You walked to the wrong neighborhood. There’s no hate here. Only love, whether your peanut-brain can accept it or not.”

Benedict did the right thing, and quietly walked away.

Magnus carefully kneeled in front his brave savior. The young boy, probably no older than twelve, was looking at him so intensely. Alec, he remembered the name, possessed truly brilliant blue eyes which still blazed with fury.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, not wanting to frighten the kid further. He eyed the bruise blossoming on the boy’s cheek. “Are you okay? Do you want to see the nurse? I’m sure they have a first aid station somewhere.”

Alec shook his head. “No, it’s okay. Are _you_ okay? My cousin was such a jerk. He hit you a lot. I’m sorry.” He innocently reaches out for the bruise blooming on Magnus’ eye, then frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

Magnus hadn’t even felt the sting. “Oh,” he chuckled, “right. Well, I’m not really much to look at, so no big loss there.”

The blaze came back to Alec’s eyes. “I think that you’re—you’re beautiful.”

He was torn between feeling too old at sixteen and a little more than taken. Many guys have commented on his looks today, especially in the middle of the parade. That was normal. Not because he was particularly pleasing in the eyes, but because he _looked different_. Never had he received a compliment before that felt to _genuine_. He froze in complete and utter shock.

“Well, I’m, err, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Alec said confidently. “I think I should go now. My parents will be looking for me.” He stood up, brushed the dirt off his clothes, then gave Magnus two thumbs-up. “All better, see? I’ll go home and put some ice on my face. “Don’t listen to Ben. He’s a bully.” With that, he turned around and disappeared between the by-standers.

Magnus sat there, staring at the spot where Alec disappeared.

“Well, look at that,” Ragnor cooed, seemingly having crawled over with the help of Catarina. Both of them seemingly sober. “I’d say it was mission accomplished. What d’you say, Cathy-cat?”

Catarina sais nothing, and that was answer enough.

Magnus shook himself out of his stupor. “Sure, if little kids are your thing, which they are not mine. I am not corrupting a precious little angel like that. He’s too...”

“Related to Bene-dick?” Ragnor tried, while Catarina said, “Young?”

“Innocent,” confessed Magnus. “He’s a child. Sure he says I’m beautiful now but he’ll grow up and want pretty girls with shorts skirts or cheerleading captain. Besides,” he sighed, “I’m about a thousand years too old for him. I’m not touching a child. I’d rather choke to death in Benedict’s stinky wilted peanut than taint someone like Alec. I can’t even believe they’re related.”

“Not all fruits from the tree are rotten,” Catarina concluded cryptically. “What do you know of the future, Magnus, maybe you just met him a few years too early.”

No one believed her at the time, but she was right.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for underage:  
> Magnus - 16. 16, and he's figuring out the things that he hasn't--whether that be what he likes gender-wise, form-wise, emotional or physical-wise. Don't forget the Magnus that we all know and love in the series is four hundred years old. He's had all the time in the world to figure things out. This Magnus hasn't. He's young and stupid and, for the most part, is yet to discover who he is as a person. So, please, your comments hurt. Stop spreading the hate on me or the characters.  
> Alec - 12
> 
> ***
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you can [INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr. Or [TALK TO ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask)~
> 
> As always, **kudos/comments/bookmarks** are all appreciated by this author. I take comments as extra-kudos and I _do_ read the bookmark tags (some are really fun).


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